


Periodicity (Michael Langdon x Reader)

by SilentWanderlust



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Romance, ahs apocalypse spoilers, questionable decisions all around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-27 22:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16711051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentWanderlust/pseuds/SilentWanderlust
Summary: When Mallory is fading from her stab wound in Outpost 3, you agree to return to the past with her. But when Mallory veers towards further death and violence, you rebel against your future Supreme in hopes of breaking what could become a horrifying cycle.





	Periodicity (Michael Langdon x Reader)

Subterranean musk and sinking cold glided from your arms to nose, settling you into the underground terrain. Fire bounced against the walls, wavering on the sconces from an unseen ventilation source. The Victorian-era brick moved in waves with the ever-changing light. 

A dozen tears mutilated the wispy fabric of your dress. You admired at the stains of blood so black it mimicked your ruined cloak. Everything from your dress to the divets on your fingers were stained. Replacing the blood on your face, you wiped away the first layer in a futile attempt at soothing yourself. Scowling, you rubbed your cracking hands together. Living ten feet under during the grueling months of nuclear winter wreaked misery on your skin.

A scream ricocheted off the walls followed by the chilly voice of Michael getting ever closer.

“We can’t kill him,” You sank to your knees beside Mallory. Blood caked her lips like a deranged smile cut through human skin. Cupping her cheeks, you wiped the blood from her jaw, willing her to stay awake. Eyes fluttering, Mallory shuttered. Her dress floated up to the surface with her shaking, ethereal in its movements. The bath ingested her blood, swirling like diluted paint filling the over sized basin. It was so large, you could submerge Mallory in darkness with a single shove. “I’m not sure death ends this nightmare.”

“It will,” Myrtle ran a hand through your hair. Her fingers catching on small tangles. “Salvation is lost on men like Michael.”

“Salvation is never lost,” You whipped your head to look up. Myrtle stood tall as a oak standing above you. “Do you really believe death will stop him?” Your voice wavered in your uncertainty. With the power to rise himself, Michael seemed near un-killable.    

“It may not save him but it will save humanity,” Cordelia rested a hand on your shoulder. “Get in.”

You swallowed, rising slowly to meet Cordelia eye to eye. “I understand.”

“Good,” Cordelia held your wrist as you stepped over the side. The water was chilly and reeked of metal. Holding tight to the edges, you sank to the bottom, floating slowly to the bottom when your body was fully submerged.

“Mallory,” You caged her hands between yours. Warmth spread from your fingers to hers as you pushed heat into her skin. Whatever you could do to keep her conscious as long as needed was priority one. The only sign of life was Mallory clutching the strand of Michael’s hair. Though her eyes were vacant, she was of enough mind to keep hold of the strands. “Stay with us a little longer.”

“Ready?” Cordelia and Myrtle knelt on either side of the tub.

Chest heaving, you mouthed the words of the incantation with them, whispering the words when your throat finally reopened. Over and over again, but the water never changed. It sat with twisting blood and the minute waves of movement from your shivering.

Mallory’s head rolled and Cordelia held her neck in place.

“It’s not working,” Cordelia pat Mallory’s cheeks. Tears sat high on her cheekbones. “She’s not strong enough.”

“I’m sorry, Cordelia,” Mallory said, her eyes wandering far beyond the confines of the room.

“It’s okay, It’s okay,” Cordelia consoled Mallory as she drifted. “No, no, no, no. Stay with us.”

The dozens of candles in the room flickered in warning, threatening to dissolve their flame. With sconces and candles at different levels across the room, the room sank into unnatural shadows.

Cordelia screamed in frustration and dropped her head.

“It appears as though we’re fucked, my dear,” Myrtle clasped her hands in front of her. The terror in the cut of Cordelia’s mouth was unapparent in Myrtle. If she experienced the agony of their situation, nothing reflected it.

You leaned forward to whisper to Mallory. Her head toppled to the side and you grabbed her face to force her gaze. The unseeing eyes sent bullets to your spine. “Mallory, Mallory, come on. Come on we need your strength just a little longer.”

Cordelia ran a hand across your arm as she stood. A steely resolve arose with the rise of her chin and the curve of her shoulder. “I love you both.”

“Wait!” You reached for her as she slipped past the tub. Her cloak swept just out of reach and your hands smacked the rigid tile instead. Water sloshed over your back and Mallory slipped down in the tub like a rag doll.

“Mallory,” You scooted back to catch her around the waist before she went under, drowning herself unintentionally. Water collided with your face, sliding up your nose and down your throat with a vibrant burning sensation. Spluttering to eject the water in your mouth, you shook your head to regain your bearings.

“How did you think this would end?” Michael’s voice came from the hallway.

“No,” You spun with Mallory still limp in your arms.

Cordelia stood tall, speaking in her cool tones to Michael. His rage and pleasure palpable, you felt the warmth of his dark presence permeating the room. The silken drawl of his voice compelled you to act.

Holding Mallory upright, you pressed your hand to her stomach. The wound was deep. Layers of skin opened like a rose from the monster ripping the knife from her side. Mallory was frigid but the wound was warm.

You opened your mouth to begin healing the wound when Cordelia screamed. Swirling in the tub to look at the entrance, Cordelia held the hilt of a dagger in her chest. Smiling like she hadn’t in years, Cordelia wavered.

Mallory heaved like she’d risen from the darkest depths of the ocean. Looking back, her eyes were alive with understanding. Her hand holding Michael’s hair rose from the water as it bubbled like boiling blood. With a shock, it went black and you were falling.

Holding Mallory’s hand, you sank together, looking up from the endless abyss of darkness. The candle room rippled with the last vestige of light before everything went black.

* * *

“We  _ can’t _ do this,” You shook Mallory’s shoulders. She wiggled back and forth with the force of your movement. “Are we egotistical enough to believe this will end it?”

“It will save billions,” Mallory held your wrists. Her elbows poked into your sides but you didn’t release her. Her curls were out of place but the control in her stare bode unfavorable for Michael. “What aren’t you seeing?”

“For how long?” You implored her to listen. Leaning forward to gain your footing, you pushed yourself from her shoulders and stumbled back. “Killing one person will stop the Devil?”

“It will slow him down,” Mallory reasoned. Spreading her fingers in defeat, she raised her hands and toppled into the chair behind her. “What do you suggest we do?”

“Not take our stolen car and run over a kid!” You pressed your palm to your nose, sliding it to your forehead. Your temples throbbed and the cold pressure of your hand soothed the gritty ache.

“You’re his age. As he is now anyway.” Mallory said. “Michael had no issue trying to kill you.”

“I-” Your words fell away. There was nothing left to say that hadn’t been already articulated a dozen ways.

“He wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter every one of us,” Mallory crossed her legs. Though she looked up to you, her tone sent a different message. “He  _ did  _ slaughter every one of us. Nearly every last person on Earth, in fact.”

“The person here is not the man who burned the world to the ground,” You pleaded. “This is unnecessary violence.”

“Unnecessary?” Mallory looked towards the window. 

The midday sun stood high in the sky, disintegrating any shadows escaping from under the large tree on the lane and the cars parked in the street. It was a quiet upper-middle class neighborhood. Nuclear families with designer dogs walked by in packs, unawares of the evil lurking under their noses.

Michael and his grandmother were just down the way. Though once the largest threat to the area, Michael was pleasantly ignorant of the danger before them.

“Come or don’t,” Mallory stood, adjusting her lace gloves as you walked to the door. Her dress fluttered behind her. “I’ve made my decision.”

“Mallory,” You sank in on yourself.

The tightness in Mallory’s jaw hardened her features. She looked sallow in her anger. Death only bred more death. Killing Michael now would mean the impending possibility of the next one. A Devil they didn’t know. At Least they knew Michael’s path; knew his role in the world. They could curb his progress, change his view, and remove him from the negative stimulus.   

“Don’t,” She cut a hand through the air. “I won’t watch our sisters die all over again and I’m disappointed you will.”

“That is not my intention,” You hurried from the room, following her through the halls.

Whoever lived in the house before had been a fan of mismatched photographs. Discoloration dotted every wall with the marks of sun damage around different stylized frames.

They weaved and twisted through the halls until Mallory reached the garage.

“Michael is powerful but hasn’t learned anything.” You leaned in to the garage, hanging over the banisters like a acrobat leaning off their stand to dive towards their ropes. “We can use him against his father and keep him from the warlocks. And we make sure the cult group doesn’t get their hands on him.”

“You’re too kind,” Mallory’s lips spread into a blank smile. “You’ll spend your life hoping he doesn’t commit these atrocities. I’m ensuring he doesn't.”

The door creaked closed behind Mallory and you waved an arm, slamming it into the wall on the other side. Mallory didn’t react. She waved her hand and the Rover door opened. She swung herself in from the hand hold on the ceiling on the car. The vehicle came alive and the garage door opened with a shutter.

Mallory motioned for you to come and you shook your head. If this was her goal, you wouldn’t conspire by sitting in the car.

“This isn’t the answer, Mallory,” You yelled as she revved the engine. “This doesn’t end with Michael. I’m not blind enough to believe that.”

Mallory spun the car in the street and you ran. Arms flying at your side, you ripped your cloak from your neck. The resistance held you back as Mallory sped over the hill. It twisted and curved like a misty morning and sank to the ground, destined to be sullied by coming cars.

Reaching a hand towards the Rover, you ripped it back. The Rover stalled, wheels spinning without moving forward. A force knocked you on your backside and broke your hold on the car. It was enough time for Mallory to disappear behind the hill.

“Shit,” You stumbled up and ran harder, your dress catching between your knees, nearly tripping you as you hurried.

You cleared the hill just as Michael stormed from the house.

He was crying. The red in his eyes was visible even from a distance. His shoulders slumped and his head hung low above his ill fitted clothing. This was not the same man that incinerated the world. Shattered and in pain, he looked the antithesis of Michael from Outpost 3.

Mallory waiting until Michael stepped in the road to slam the ignition.

In an instant he was on the group and the wheels over him, digging into his shoulders as his bones shattered.     

You screamed as a wave of fury erupting from your shattered your soul. Throwing your hands in front of you, Mallory’s car froze. She pressed back against you but the pressure of your guttural reaction was enough to overpower her.

Michael’s head fell to the side, his amazed stare trained directly on you. The brilliant red blood slicking his skin dripping from his face to the sizzling hot asphalt. Mallory was right. He  _ was _ your age. There was no doubt about that fact and it sent something lose that you were unable to control. A heavy force weaved from you to the vehicle, incinerating it in a wave of glass and metal. It shattered into a thousand pieces, slicing through the air like daggers.

When the remaining spine of the vehicle went up in flames you sprinted towards Michael. Nothing was left in the conflagration but burning glass and the toxic fumes of sizzling metal.

“Michael,” You threw yourself on your knees before him lying broken on the ground. You choked back tears already slithering through the dirt on your face. The strain stung your throat already coated in smoke. “You’re safe. You’re safe.”

Running your hands through his hair, Michael struggled to speak, the affection off putting considering his current state. In pain, he scrunched his face at the numb tingling and tearing in his limbs.

“I’ll heal you,” You pulled one hand from his hair in preparation for the laborious process ahead. As you slid your hands over his body, calling what little strength remained inside you, the realization of your consequential actions assailed you. Your chest constricted as you screamed your pain.

Closing each individual wound, you worked carefully, meticulously to ensure you made no mistake. The external cuts were simple. Each rip of skin laced back together like the stitches of an experienced physician.

The internal destruction was cumbersome. Lids covering your vision, you felt the chest cavity bleeding. You dug your fingers into your palm, pushing the wayward blood back into his healing veins. Healing the veins assisting in reversing the damage to his organs. As the blood pumped correctly, you followed the path to realign and close the punctures in his lungs and intestines.

Michael’s chest rose and fell faster with each healed wound. The last step of remaking his bones one by one and seemed an excruciating endeavor. Each bone cracked back in place and Michael flinched every time. Gritting his teeth and heaving his chest in the air, Michael held back screams.

“I’m so sorry,” You whispered above him as you worked. Your tears and his mixed on his chest. Tears for Mallory and your coven and the acceptance of your destiny. While Mallory was shortsighted about Michael, she wasn’t about your role. You defied Cordelia and defied Mallory and now you couldn’t defy yourself.

Constance screamed from the entryway of the house. She stumbled forward as she ran. But only until she reached the curb. You slammed her back against the gate with a thud. The metal dinged her spine, reverberating through his body like a ringing chime.

“Stay away from him,” You warned, fearing her intervention could push Michael over the edge. The putrid look on his face was evidence of your guess as he leaned back to look at Constance upside down. “Michael, look at me.”

His head snapped back to stare at you. Placing your hands on his cheeks, you slid your fingers over the last of the open wounds. They melted back together, leaving the soft purple glow of a bruise. Michael’s face reddened at your touch, burning under your fingers.

“I wasn’t worth saving,” Michael’s face hardened. The innocent face from before became the knowing face of a man his age. It aged him years. Even with the tears, the heaviness of his gaze sobered you.

“You were,” You wrapped an arm around his waist to help him sit up. He felt wasted away. Michael’s ribs grazed your forearm as you held him up.

Constance flailed against the fence. With a snap, you release her invisible bind. She stroked her hair and looked either direction on the street for passersby. It was quiet lest the burning ashes falling like noxious rain.

“You fixed him,” Constance waggled an accusatory finger your direction. “He’s your problem now.”

“Understood,” You smiled softly which didn’t slip past Constance.

She scowled at your casual impertinence. “Go to Hell.”

Waving her distaste, she shuffled back up the steps, holding her dress up so it wouldn’t drag across the dirty ground.

Michael slipped an arm around your waist, With a jolt, you looked to him. His pulse throbbed in his neck.

Following the path to his jaw, you wiped a smudge of dirt from his chin. Tears coated the bags under his eyes. Dragging your knuckles to his cheeks, you swiped the tears away like a mosquito in summer. Michael’s lips fell open at the gesture. His pupils jutted between your own as he focused on you. His hand at your waist squeezed tight, twisting the skin under his hold.

Unsure of how to proceed you stood and wiped yourself off. Grey ash coated your dress like you’d bathed in fire. And particles stuck to your lashes like snowfall, dotting your vision with black spots.   

Michael took your offered hand and stood slowly, testing his aching limbs. You turned to leave, his hand still in yours, but he spun you back to face him. Sliding his fingers between yours, he laced your hands together.

Seconds passed in silence wrought with burning lungs and aching hearts.

Michael smiled, only enough for the edges of his lips to move, but it ignited his eyes. Dropping your hand he wrapped himself around you. His arms once again slipped over your waist and he rested his chin on your shoulder. With a gasp, you wrapped your hands at his neck, gently enough you wouldn’t inflame his healing muscles.

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” Michael pressed his face to the crook of your neck.

“I’m more aware than you’ll ever know.” Your back curved as he pressed himself into you.

It was silent again. Michael breathed heavy against your neck. With each movement you made, the twitch of a hand or the flex of a leg, he gripped you tighter. Refusing to let you go, he locked his hands behind your back, caging you in his hold.

He lifted his head enough to catch your ear with the breath of his words. “Thank you.”

* * *

**Two Years Later**

The kiss was heavy, enthralling, wrought with wanton promise.

Michael never relinquished his hold on you. He engaged you in touch every time you were together. But this wasn’t a pinky hooked in yours or a hand on the small of your back. It was a braid of demands, questions, and uncertainty.

Michael had you against the counter, pressed into the cabinetry. Handles dug in the soft skin behind your knees with the pressure of Michael over you.

“What-”

“Shh,” Michael bit your lip and dipped his hands under your thighs to toss you up on the counter.

You laughed at his presumptuousness and grabbed his face to pull him closer again. He stepped between your knees and pulled you back in to him. Legs dangling off the counter like pendulums, you wrapped them around his legs to hold you steady.

At this angle, you were taller than him. You took advantage by grabbing his chin. Pulling it up, you reveled in the darkness dripping his gaze. Digging in with the pad of your fingers, you kissed his pursed lips.

“Oh no,” Michael locked you against him and lifted you in the air. “This won’t do at  _ all _ .”

“Michael!” You struggled against him as he carried you like a laundry basket through the hall.

With a sigh, you dropped your arms to rest on his head, palms on either side of the part in his hair.

“Y/N!” He mocked with a devilish grin. Holding you with one arm, he grabbed your wrists from his hair and locked them between you.

“Y/N.” He repeated your name an octave lower.

“Where do you plan on taking me?” You swallowed as your legs dangled. Michael looked up and to the side, feigning thought.

“Upstairs,” His gaze came back to you. He flicked a brow and pressed his tongue to his bottom lip.

The doorbell rang and you blinked the haze from your eyes. You shimmied to get down but Michael didn’t release you.

“They can wait,” Michael kissed down your neck and grazed his teeth against your collar bone. “We have other business.”

You wiggled again and he dropped you to the floor. As your feet touched the shiny wood, you tried turning but Michael held you in place.

“No you don’t,” He clung to your waist.

You stared him down. A silent challenge. With a smirk, he walked you back. Stumbling the first few steps, you let him guide you in fear of toppling you both to the ground. His hands slid to your stomach as he pushed you against the front door. The weaving carvings on the heavy wood door poked into your shoulder blades.

“Now you’re mocking me,” Your breath caught with his sudden kiss.

It was cut short with another ring of the bell.

“Maybe,” Michael stepped back and gave an over exaggerated wave towards the door. Like a king in his domain, he nodded his approval.

Running your hands through your tangled hair, you opened the door, expecting a delivery man. Michael stood behind you, his hands on your biceps. He was tall enough to rest his chin on your head if he so decided.  

Frowning, you stepped back against Michael at the image before you. Three somber figures donned black and red cloaks. Michael stepped to the side, sensing your sudden trepidation, showing his height to the unwelcome and invited party.

You grit your teeth at the woman on the right. It was the spark to Michael’s match. Ms. Meade. Her coiffed hair sank under the weight of her velveteen hood. The skin of her face was pale but her eyes were aglow with interest. She looked younger every passing moment with a growing grin.

“Who are you?” Michael stepped half in front of you, blocking you like a half-moon.

“I am the Black Pope and these are my Cardinals.” The man crooned, looking Michael up and down.

“We’ve been waiting our whole lives for this,” Ms. Meade looked smug. The sliver of her face you saw around Michael blocking you was alight with the mischief of impending disaster.

The Black Pope reached his hands to Michael’s. “May we come in?”  


End file.
